In the Spring of 91 I was on the school board attending a high school drama performance at the Win Granlund Performing Arts Center in Port Orchard. During intermission I became engaged in conversation – lots of people wanted my ear in those days – so lights were blinking and I had yet to make it to the men’s room.

As I entered I thought it a bit strange that the urinal was one big round basin face off with a running spray, but thought nothing of it as I headed for the center booth.As I was seated there gathering my thoughts I heard the approach of a highly pitched trio of voices. As they entered I realized I had accidentally entered the women’s zone. Sitting there as a truly captive audience I debated whether to raise my large feet to hide my presence or to keep them planted so no one would knock at the door. It was agonizing as I visualized newspaper headlines that would surely result from my discovery.Fortunately the women were only focused on the mirror and soon left.I was able to sneak out right after and suffered no consequences other than a firmly placed resolution to c a r e f u l l y read all restroom signs in the future.